


it cannot wait (I'm yours)

by kairumption (lapmonster)



Category: C-Pop, EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Relationships, Claiming, Community: playboys0408, Fic Exchange, M/M, Marijuana, Marking, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use, Sex, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7359301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapmonster/pseuds/kairumption
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baekhyun’s first word was “mine!” Jongin used to stamp stickers on all his toys. Not much has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it cannot wait (I'm yours)

**Author's Note:**

> [see livejournal for background ships and additional warnings!!](http://rumwrites.livejournal.com/1750.html) written for [playboys0408](http://playboys0408.livejournal.com/) kinkfest for claiming/establishing ownership.
> 
> they’re both so possessive, i die every day. this is probably sappier than you’d expect. thanks for beta’ing, coke! title from i’m yours by jason mraz (alt. tunes include: i’m yours by alessia clara, yours by ella henderson).

Baekhyun started talking at a remarkably young age. Even before real human speech, monologues streamed past his lips in near-constant chatter of unintelligible babytalk. But his first real word was “mine!” And he used it for everything, even before he knew what it meant. It didn’t matter if it was truly his or not. Puppies, kittens, toys, wild pigeons, people, etc.

He never quite gets out of the habit.

Now, he’s got his own apartment in a duplex (even if Chanyeol lives with him, the flat is _his_ , Chanyeol is _his_ roommate); his takeout boxes are clearly labeled, “Baekhyun’s!” or “Do not eat on pain of death”; and the door to his room is dressed in his name and even one of his headshots like an actor’s trailer. By now, of course, the photo has been altered to nigh unrecognizable from graffiti doodles, including a third eye suspiciously resembling a vulva, a colorful array of cartoon dicks and what had originally been a mustache now evolved into a full beard.

He’s grown up—as grown-up as a senior in college can be—with real jobs, teaching kids hapkido and accompanying high school plays on piano; even has real auditions lined up for professional musical theatre gigs! But that same possessive spirit is still alive and well inside him. Sure, it doesn’t always stir, doesn’t shake his heart the way it did when he was a kid.

But Jongin Kim brings it out in him.

Baekhyun first saw him, _really saw him_ , at their school’s annual corny, show-tunesy production—like an open mic for performance majors of all kinds. As with everything, it started small: a tiny seed dropped in Baekhyun’s heart. He was backstage in the wings, peeking out from behind the curtains before he was up when he saw Jongin on tip toes in soft ballet shoes. Baekhyun stood up on his own toes to get a better look. The dancer’s eyes were lined with blue with curling kohl black rising over his eyelids and out like uncoiling smoke—but he didn’t need it to captivate the audience. Sweat flew from the ends of his hair like shooting light when he spun on the ball of his foot; Baekhyun’s breath stuck in his throat. 

Unconsciously, in that moment Baekhyun swore to make him his.

Chanyeol, tuning a guitar strapped to his neck, stepped up to Baekhyun’s side. He hardly noticed.

“You’re drooling,” Chanyeol told him.

Startled, Baekhyun sucked in a wet breath, glaring at Chanyeol through a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to the dancer. He began repeatedly wiping his mouth in an obsessive sort of way only to lick his lips involuntarily in the end. “Who’s that?” he asked in a whisper.

Chanyeol looked up from his guitar, squinting at the stage. “Jongin? He’s one of the dance majors. Got a couple classes with Yixing, now that I think about it.” Yixing was one of Chanyeol’s stoner buddies and his and Baekhyun’s mutual friend, a composer and dance minor.

Baekhyun swiped at his bottom lip again.

“I could introduce you,” suggested Chanyeol with a devilish grin.

Squawking in protest, Baekhyun finally faced him, only to turn away just as Jongin was exiting Stage Baekhyun. He almost barreled into him, Baekhyun barely scrambling back in time for them not to collide. The look on Chanyeol’s face said something along the lines of, _Would that have been such a bad thing?_ and Baekhyun wanted to punch him.

“S-sorry,” he managed to stutter out to the breathless dancer. He was even more beautiful up close, deeply toned skin glistening with sweat dripping over the contours of his cheeks, full lips parted with his heavy breathing. His eyes caught the other’s, dark brown and clear. Baekhyun felt like he was the one who should have been gasping. 

Jongin responded with a mumble not much more than a grunt, but it sounded like a whispered _‘sokay_ , when he patted Baekhyun on the shoulder, sweat leaving a damp imprint on his shirt. 

“Ew,” said Chanyeol when Jongin was out of earshot. Baekhyun couldn’t tell if it was about the sweat or the furiously red blush on Baekhyun’s face.

Since then, Baekhyun has been trying to make Jongin his. But not in any direct sort of way, oddly enough; in fact, Baekhyun is rarely ever shy, let alone when it comes to pursuing someone. In Jongin, however, he finds a kind of foil. Every time he tries to approach him, the tall dancer always seems to be busy, or cold, or (the strangest one) shy, and this in turn makes Baekhyun shy. He can’t wrap his mind around it. Normally brazen, throwing caution to the wind, it’s like he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

Kyungsoo, Chanyeol’s boyfriend who was all but living with them at this point, assured him that Jongin was like that with everyone, and so too did Yixing. So Baekhyun didn’t give up, but was quiet about it. He attended dress rehearsals, stealing glances, going to shows. Sometimes Jongin would recognize him, and their eyes would lock once more. Baekhyun tried not to cower or duck, because Jongin never seemed to. He kept his gaze steady, even if his bottom lip would worry between his lips or a flush would spread over his cheeks.

Cute. So maybe he knew that he was the one being watched.

But that didn’t mean clarity. One such sit-in of a dance class, before Baekhyun had left Jongin approached him asking if he was interested in dance. Baekhyun had gotten so dizzy from headrush standing from his seat that he barely heard him, trying to get the words past his mouth that as a musical theatre major he had already taken tap and had to take jazz eventually.

Jongin lit up. “You’re friends with Yixing, right?”

“Yeah!” responded Baekhyun enthusiastically once his eyes had cleared. “I live with Chanyeol, so I see him around a lot.”

“Bakhyun Byun, right?”

Baekhyun’s face fell for but a moment before a wry smile came to his lips. He had half a mind to accept that as his new name, to legally change it and everything but he corrected, “Baekhyun.”

Jongin flushed, and God what a sight to see. “Sorry!” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. He shook Baekhyun’s hand when it was offered though. “Jongin Kim.”

Baekhyun tried not to say, _I know_ , but an awkward silence passed between them anyway. “Uh,” he began.

“I gotta go,” he interrupted sheepishly, shifting weight on the balls of his feet.

Grinning, Baekhyun said coquettishly, “Same time?”

Jongin nodded, looking like he was trying not to smile.

Baekhyun turned around, only to realize they were going in the _same God damn direction_. Horror filled his gut as he tried to get away in the opposite direction even if they had to take the same fucking bus.

After that nightmare (and not even getting his number!), Baekhyun decides on a party. The plan is a little hare-brained, but he knows that if he were to meet Jongin more in Baekhyun’s own element, rather, at a gathering of his peers, he wouldn’t be nearly as skittish. 

So of course he gets Chanyeol to invite Jongin for him.

“We haven’t had a real party since, like, sophomore year,” he complains while cooking their dinner.

Baekhyun is sitting at the table where Kyungsoo is cutting vegetables for stir fry. Baekhyun snatches a cut carrot from the pile at risk of losing a finger. “‘Party’ is a loose term,” he assures Chanyeol. “It’s just a bunch of our friends, plus Jongin. Who is a friend of a friend. So it works.” He pauses to chew then asks, “Since when do you whine about parties anyway?”

Chanyeol begins to list off his grievances, “Buying booze, smoking people out, cleaning up after everyone—”

“I’ll take care of everything,” he cuts off before Chanyeol can finish. “Just invite Jongin.”

Kyungsoo finally chimes in, pointing his knife at Baekhyun semi-menacingly, “Why don’t you just _ask him out_?” 

Baekhyun mumbles through another mouthful of veggies, “I don’t know, shut up.”

✧

Party time. Chanyeol’s pulled through on the invite but Jongin’s the only one who hasn’t arrived yet when there’s a disruptive _ding dong_. He had practice late, and Baekhyun already knew he would be there later than everyone else but he’s still… on edge, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sound of the doorbell. While others offer to answer it, Baekhyun zips out in front of everyone, eager to be the one to greet his guest.

In an almost comical display of abject nervousness, Baekhyun tries to smooth down his stylishly mussed hair on his way to opening the door, only to violently shake his fingers through it—reverting it back to its original state. Of course, this is the moment that Jongin peeks through the thin window adjacent to the door, giving a weak grin when Baekhyun spots him. 

_Christ_ , he thinks. _Good start_.

The door is finally open and Baekhyun beckons the other in with an overpaid butler’s flourish of the hand, almost spilling his fruity drink. Jongin nods in a polite almost-bow, a mirror of Baekhyun’s own anxiety; something Baekhyun’s normally perceptive eye would catch had he not been ogling the way Jongin’s shoulders stretched the fabric of his dark blue shirt when he shifted.

The smile on Baekhyun’s face is both dazzling and uneasy. “Come in,” he finally says, after the silence stretches on for too long.

At this point, Jongin is already inside, but he graciously replies, “Thanks for having me,” like a fucking boy scout. Inwardly, he chastises himself. 

But Baekhyun, on the other hand, has his own internal crisis because _since when_ do nice, polite boys do it for him? He smiles at the absurdity of it, the kind of grin that turns down the corners of his mouth and makes his lips disappear and he has to look away because he’s so inexplicably fond. 

Unseen by Baekhyun, Jongin licks his lips and takes a deep breath. He follows the host to the living room where everyone’s getting wasted.

“ _Heyyy_ , Jongin,” greets Chanyeol vaguely with a strange slowness indicative of the bowl he’s already shared with Yixing and their other friends Sehun and Minseok, the latter of whom is now cross-faded and lying on his back staring at the ceiling. Beside Sehun is his boyfriend Zitao, giggling and poking Minseok with his toe. Yixing looks up at Jongin with faraway eyes and holds up his hand as if to wave but is distracted by its presence in front of his sightline, inspecting it as if it’s something rare and new.

“You invited me over to get high?” asks Jongin incredulously, eyeing the bong and lighter in Chanyeol’s hand.

Chanyeol lets out the breath of smoke he’s been holding, replying, “What did you think ‘chill’ meant?”

Baekhyun takes a sip of his drink and rolls his eyes. “The _non_ -stoner definition, I bet.”

Shrugging, Chanyeol turns back to his bong, despite Sehun’s protests beside him. “Not _my_ fault he’s not hip to my jive,” he says before taking another hit and passing it over to the whining Sehun.

Kyungsoo comes in from the kitchen, holding a freshly opened artisan microbrew, smiling in an exasperated sort of way at his boyfriend. He sits on the armchair of his seat, resting his arm on his shoulder and leaning comfortably into him. “I _told_ you Jongin doesn’t smoke.”

Chanyeol looks up at him blearily, fondly, then back to Jongin. “ _I_ didn’t really invite you anyway,” he counters, voice strained to keep the smoke in his lungs. He lets it out in a huff that poofs out his cheeks and adds, coughing, “Baekhyun did. Indirectly.”

Baekhyun nearly chokes on his drink, spluttering, “What is the point of— _huhhhgh_!” He drags a hand over his face with the last syllable, avoiding Jongin’s look when he turns to him.

“Should I have told him _Netflix_ and chill?” teases Chanyeol, adding fuel to the fire. “Then would he get the message?”

Kyungsoo swats him lightly on the head for Baekhyun’s sake.

“Chanyeol, I _swear_ to _God_ …” growls Baekhyun, sure that Jongin’s going to leave, going to be weirded out. Why couldn’t he have just asked him out like a normal person (like he _normally does_ ), why this elaborate setup? He should have known that Chanyeol couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. And now Jongin is going to reject him in front of all these people—

But instead, he turns to Baekhyun. “ _You_ wanted me here?”

Oh God, his eyes are shining; Baekhyun goes pink at the sight. “We all did, but… yeah,” he admits, rubbing his neck self-consciously. “Yeah, I did.” Hastily, he tries to switch the subject back, holding up his drink. “I don’t like smoking either, makes me paranoid. I can make you a mixed drink instead, if you want. Or there’s beer in the fridge,” he adds, gesturing to the kitchen.

Jongin shifts uncomfortably, sitting down on one of the poofs arranged on the floor, carefully avoiding Minseok’s prone figure. “I don’t really drink either actually…”

“Oh,” sounds Baekhyun, sitting on the floor beside him. “Straight-edge, huh?”

Jongin shrugs (an act that could be interpreted as innocent if his shoulders weren’t so broad that Baekhyun can’t stop thinking of draping his legs over them). “I guess. It’s not like a statement or anything. I just enjoy myself without it. I guess I don’t like being drunk,” he admits honestly.

“That’s cute. No,” he adds quickly when he sees Jongin’s scrunching up his face, “I don’t mean it in a condescending way, I mean… _actually_ cute.”

“Uhh…” Jongin blushes and Baekhyun finds himself mirroring him at the sight. 

Gingerly, pointedly, Baekhyun sets down his drink on the coffee table out of reach.

“Hey,” says Jongin softly, “you don’t have to… not for me…” 

Baekhyun beams up at him. Maybe it’s the drink already in his system but he takes a risk and confesses, “Truth is, I’m a horny drunk and I don’t want to scare you away.”

Laughter comes out of Jongin like a bark, big and deep and opened-mouthed. His eyes crinkle when he settles into a toothy smile, asking, “You didn’t think _that_ would scare me away?” He looks pleased as punch, if not a bit pink.

Baekhyun grins, emboldened. “You’re strong enough.” 

The smile that brings out in Jongin is coy, lips pressed together like he’s trying not to. He nudges Baekhyun with his shoulder, his hand brushing the side of his thigh. He smells fresh, soap mingling with his natural musk, and hair still damp from the post-dance shower. No time to shave, though, there’s a little dotting of shadowy stubble around Jongin’s upper lip that Baekhyun has it in his mind to kiss.

Dizzying, he clears his throat, about to speak when Sehun cuts him off in an attempt at conversation with Jongin.

It doesn’t really work because everything he’s trying to say is interrupted by his own laughter and his moderately drunk boyfriend (all but in his lap) repeating, “Babe, you are _fucked_ up.”

Jongin tries to humor him, nodding along like he actually understands a word of what he’s saying; but soon Sehun loses his train of thought, spaces out, and turns back to Zitao and Yixing, giggling for no apparent reason.

Jongin chuckles uncomfortably, turning his attentions back to Baekhyun. 

“Do you want a tour?” offers Baekhyun, voice weaker than he would like.

Jongin’s response is quiet, but affirmative.

“I saw you, in the audience,” Jongin blurts after padding with Baekhyun down the hall, the party behind them. “I mean, obviously, I like, talked to you, and stuff. Once I even meant to give you tickets to a show I was in the chorusline for, left them on your regular seat and everything, but, I was so sure you were there for one of the girls I sprinted back to grab them before you showed up.” He chuckled at the confession, embarrassed. 

“I was there for you,” confirms Baekhyun, voice too deep, eyes too downcast for the statement to be thought of casual, the way he meant it to sound.

“Yeah?” And he looks way too pleased with himself. 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, pushing at Jongin’s arm playfully. He doesn’t drop his hand though, leaving it on Jongin’s bicep, slowly running it down the length of his arm to his wrist where it now rests over the back of Jongin’s hand. Jongin welcomes the touch, lifting his hand up and around so his fingers curl around over the heel, thumb nestling between Baekhyun’s ring finger and pinky.

Jongin starts to speak again, swinging their joined hands between them; Baekhyun is happy to listen to him ramble on about dance, its importance to him, how he started as a kid, what performing means to him. It’s somehow intimate, Baekhyun feels. Like Jongin is exposing pieces of himself to him. He lands gracefully into topics, speaking of his mischievous, younger self; especially how he’d stamp stickers on all his toys to tell everyone they were _his_ and no one else’s. It’s a sentiment Baekhyun can identify with, responding with a squeeze of his hand.

Jongin goes on, talks in long strings of prose, run-on sentences in an unending paragraph. He speaks as if all his quiet was meant for forming the words he was waiting to say so that they elegantly, beautifully fall into place. They come out fast and smooth, in deep, rolling tones—like mumbles, like the rumbling of thunder—crystal clear like a swift river and ever so soothing. Baekhyun stares at Jongin’s mouth as it moves around words, twisting through speech like a dance in of itself, plush lips pursing and pouting and lifting into a smile. He comes alive, in his eyes, animated and excited—if not a little agitated. It’s now that Baekhyun sees the micro-shakes of Jongin’s shoulders, the way his eye contact is fleeting but intense, and especially how he licks his lips between thoughts as if he’s preparing for something. 

He’s nervous. 

Baekhyun is floored by this. He should have known, of course, but it’s still somewhat shocking; he originally thought Jongin to be a little cold, his aloofness and silence a sign that he was too cool or impenetrable for Baekhyun’s jabs at playfulness and friendship. But now he finally sees for himself what everyone assured him of all along: he was just shy. He still is, hiding behind the light of his eyes as he makes small talk grow into something bigger.

Baekhyun’s eyes must spark with the knowledge as he’s looking up at Jongin, because Jongin seems to falter and drops his hand. Their apartment tour has paused in the hallway beside Baekhyun’s room, Baekhyun leaning his shoulders back against the wall, the hand that was momentarily Jongin’s reuniting with the other behind his back to fidget. He tilts his head in silent question. Jongin is slouched, bending toward him, but he shifts to straighten his back when he sees the change in Baekhyun.

“What?” he asks in a breathy half-laugh, the smile still turning his lips.

Baekhyun tries not to grin too wide, tilts his head to the side. “It’s just surprising, you seemed so quiet before, but once you get talking you don’t really stop.”

“I could stop,” he says in one breath. He looks expectantly into Baekhyun’s eyes, then down, somewhere else.

Baekhyun doesn’t take the hint. “Don’t have to,” he assures with a head shake and an easy smile on his lips. “I like listening as much as I like watching.”

Blushing, Jongin takes a stiff, awkward step forward, until they’re almost touching foreheads. “No,” he mutters softly with decidedly restrained effort. “I mean, _we could stop talking_.”

A gasp lodges in Baekhyun’s throat before he can sound it out. “Oh,” he sighs, stepping on his tip toes like a ballerino himself to take Jongin’s face in his hands and kiss him.

Jongin presses back into him, pushing him against the wall, hands on Baekhyun’s flanks and squeezing tight enough to make Baekhyun pant against him. Jongin breathes in deep through his nose like preparing for a deep sigh of relief. Baekhyun thinks he probably smells like weed and party sweat, and _definitely_ tastes like frilly alcohol and Kyungsoo’s homemade poutine—but Jongin breathes out against him in a hurried puff, like he’s overwhelmed, before kissing him all the more fiercely, like Baekhyun himself is intoxicating. His lips are firm and plush and so, so perfect; Baekhyun can’t get enough of them.

But he pulls back to look up at him, sucking on Jongin’s bottom lip as he goes. He’s checking to see if this is really happening, if it’s really Jongin. Jongin’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a little glazed over, blinking hazily. Baekhyun bites back a smile; Jongin really didn’t need to get drunk. Jongin impulsively leans in again for another quick, little kiss like a reminder, or confirmation—surprisingly chaste but… promising.

Quietly, Baekhyun admits, “I’ve kissed you so many times in my head, I forgot it hadn’t happened yet.” His lips are still parted, hinting at his front teeth, his pink tongue. He’s still staring at Jongin’s mouth.

A shaky laugh falls past Jongin’s already swollen lips, like he’s been holding his breath. “Now,” he says sweetly, tilting his head, and uses Baekhyun’s own words against him: “ _that’s_ cute.”

Baekhyun giggles goofily, as if proud, before kissing him again. They stay in the hall for a pocket eternity, wandering hands and breathless chuckles, too hot, too much. Baekhyun’s head spins, his chest flush against Jongin’s where he has him all but pinned against the wall. Ambient party sounds drift to them but they barely notice, caught in their own private world until—

‘What if…” they hear Yixing’s slow musing, “what if there were Snuggies… for your hands…” 

Both Jongin and Baekhyun have to pull apart to stifle their sudden giggles.

“We’ll make _millions_!” yells Chanyeol enthusiastically in response.

Baekhyun presses a finger to Jongin’s lips to shush his shaky-shoulder laugh.

Then Kyungsoo weighs in from where he’s making nachos in the kitchen, shouting, “They’re called _fingerless gloves_ , idiots!!”

Jongin bursts out laughing at that; Baekhyun has to cover his mouth. There is a glint in Jongin’s eyes, still squinty with laughter, pressing his lips forward to kiss against Baekhyun’s fingers. 

Baekhyun laughs again, but it’s different, breathy, and almost nervous. He licks his lips, trying not to let it seem like it affects him as much as it does.

They move to Baekhyun’s bedroom after that, Baekhyun pulling him by the wrist and shutting the door behind them. Jongin presses him up against it, again, thumbs stroking over the back of Baekhyun’s hands like he knows that’ll drive him crazy. 

Jongin’s knee finds the gap between Baekhyun’s legs surprisingly quick, angled and poised below his pelvis that all Baekhyun has to do is lean back a little and roll his hips forward for some friction. Baekhyun moans lightly against the other’s mouth at the thought, not sure if he wants to take the opportunity yet; Jongin makes the decision for him, pulling Baekhyun’s hands up and around his neck so that they rest on Jongin’s shoulders. He holds Baekhyun at the small of his back, pulling them closer. The sound out of Baekhyun is small, but seems loud in the quiet of the empty room, the noises of the party barely white noise now. Jongin mouths lightly at Baekhyun’s lips, almost missing entirely, mostly getting chin but it’s so gentle Baekhyun sighs into it. 

Jongin chuckles, a puff of air against Baekhyun’s ear as he presses them flush against one another in something more similar to a ballroom dance move than any makeout session Baekhyun’s ever had. They stay like that for barely a moment, swaying. His breath hitches when Jongin presses his lips against his ear with purpose, teething at the lobe before pulling back only to kiss at the hinge of his jaw.

Baekhyun’s fingers entwine in the hair just before his nape, now dry, pulling him back to meet his lips again, hungrier this time around. Baekhyun arches his back to grind down onto Jongin’s leg and Jongin groans because he can _feel him_ ; already hard, he pushes back in turn against Baekhyun’s hip. 

Baekhyun opens his eyes, scritching fondly against Jongin’s scalp, to smile up at him. It’s cheeky, and Jongin knows it’s about his overeager boner poking at him. Sputtering a little, he opens his mouth to defend himself but Baekhyun kisses him again instead.

“Okay,” breathes Baekhyun, simultaneously pushing and pulling Jongin toward the bed. “Okay.”

“ _Baekhyun_ ,” murmurs Jongin when the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sits automatically, almost in a heap, knees weak and a little dizzy.

“Yeah?” replies Baekhyun, slotting himself between Jongin’s legs and bending over him. He lifts the other’s chin up with the tips of his fingers, gently, smiling into another kiss, the other hand resting on Jongin’s shoulder. It meanders as they kiss, down over his tummy and gently over the tent of his pants.

Jongin moans into Baekhyun’s lips; then licks at his own when they pull away, bobbing his head a little sheepishly. “It’s okay if, I mean, we can just make out. You don’t have to feel like, obligated to do… anything.”

Baekhyun gives him a look, tilting his head.

“It’s just, I don’t know how much you had to drink but,” he hesitates. “I could stop,” he says again.

“God, you’re cute,” says Baekhyun, eyes sparkling. He pulls away, standing at his full height with one arm akimbo. “Do _you_ want to stop?”

Jongin shakes his head quickly, Baekhyun’s thumb on his chin moving with the movement. His hands flounder on his thighs indecisively. “Not if you don’t.”

“Can I sit?” Baekhyun gestures to Jongin’s lap. 

Jongin’s eyes go a little wide. He nods, mouthing something inaudible that looks a lot like _Please_.

Jongin puts his knees together to make a bridge for Baekhyun to sit on, legs spread over him and gingerly seated with his shins flanking him on the bed. Jongin’s hands naturally slot against Baekhyun’s thighs, fingers hooked behind the other’s knees and holding him firmly against him. Baekhyun’s about half a head taller than Jongin like this and he loves it. He gently holds Jongin’s head in his beautiful fingers, almost lovingly strokes his features, brushing his ears and making him shiver beneath him. Baekhyun doesn’t break eye contact until he leans down to press a little smooch to Jongin’s nose, to which Jongin indignantly scrunches at him like a child, like Baekhyun’s junk isn’t pressing up against his stomach through their clothes. 

It’s then that Baekhyun thinks, _Wow, I could get used to this_ , and makes himself comfortable. 

He gently takes Jongin’s neck in his hands, fingers splaying over the hard line of his jaw. He’s not even thinking about how or if he’s going to get him off, just wants to kiss him like they have all the time in the world. Like Jongin is already his. That’s what it’s like to kiss Jongin, he finds; he’s pliant and eager and yielding and responsive and everything, everything Baekhyun loves about kissing someone. He knows _do more of that_ without Baekhyun having to tell him, all the right kinds of soft and hard and so, so comfortable. It makes him think, maybe, just maybe that Jongin really is his.

He forgets himself, moaning with abandon when Jongin gets bold and gropes his ass, pulling him even closer.

“I can still hear _them_ , you know,” whispers Jongin hastily, crooking an eyebrow in a way that is far from innocent despite the warning tone of his voice, using one of the guilty hands to shush Baekhyun over his parted lips. 

Baekhyun blinks, taking hold of Jongin’s fingers and kissing his wrist. “They’re just loud,” he waves off.

Jongin grins, thumb stroking against Baekhyun’s cheek. “So are you.”

“I can be quiet,” mutters Baekhyun, dropping Jongin’s hand with a blush. 

Jongin bites his lip a moment, as if considering whether he should say what he’s thinking or not. By now Baekhyun knows that Jongin is worth the wait, sits back on his ass to fiddle with the other’s fingers and watch him nervously form the next sentence: “What if I don’t want you to be?”

Baekhyun tries to bite back the smile on his face, cheeks pink and round and so pretty. Jongin’s courage is back, surging up to press a soft, albeit wet, kiss to the apple of one of those cheeks. Baekhyun shrinks a little, giggling, the wide grin on his face turning boxy and bright. Then Jongin dips below the other’s chinline, latching his mouth onto the hollow between Baekhyun’s neck and his collar bone, suckling the flesh there with a smacking sound. 

Baekhyun gasps, pressing the heels of his hands against Jongin’s shoulders; he doesn’t want him to stop but the sensation catches him off guard like a sudden tickle attack. When Jongin is done leaving his mark, he looks up at Baekhyun with stars in his eyes. A sigh, apparently out of Baekhyun’s control, escapes him. He can’t get enough of how Jongin looks at him.

When he leans down to kiss him again, though, they’re both startled by a knock.

“Shit!” whispers Jongin, panicked and sitting up straight.

“Wait,” replies Baekhyun, kneading his fingers over Jongin’s shoulder and neck, “it’s the front door, it’s just another party guest.”

They both visibly relax, but then Baekhyun hears the voice when Kyungsoo (the least fucked up of the bunch) answers the door, and he tenses.

“Jongdae!” greets a surprised Kyungsoo. “I thought you had a date!”

They hug, apparently. Jongin and Baekhyun remain still, listening quietly as the two walk past the bedroom.

“I did. She has to write a paper, so I thought I’d stop by.” Their voices fade until they reach the main room, everyone erupting into greetings.

“He just had to show up,” mutters Baekhyun, hands in fists.

Jongin notices how rigid Baekhyun’s body remains. “Who is he?”

Baekhyun leans back and scrubs his face, breathing deeply through his nose. "A mistake. Or, several mistakes actually."

"Your ex?" asks Jongin, hands gently rested on the other’s knees.

He grimaces. "Not exactly.” He goes on to explain how Jongdae was a series of drunken hookups, before Jongdae had “discovered himself” before he finally realized he was a part of the Bisexual Brigade like Baekhyun. “I did that sometimes, you know, when guys needed a push to figure themselves out. But, I actually liked Jongdae.”

Jongin strokes Baekhyun’s arms soothingly. He hears the heaviness of the word _liked_ , that no one ever seemed to stay, that he wanted someone to stay.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Baekhyun adds softly.

Jongin looks up at him, lips fuller, swollen from kissing. “That must have been lonely.”

Baekhyun rubs at his own lips distractedly. “I wanted somebody to keep me.” Jongin squeezes circle designs into Baekhyun’s arms, but he’s not having it. He feels uncomfortable being pitied, feels judged and small, and like an _idiot_. Why did he have to tell him? On their first “date” too! He puts on a smile, clears his throat: “You know, I think I’ll have that drink.” And with that, he slips off Jongin’s lap.

Jongin calls after him, a little pleading, and then follows him out once he knows his boner is officially _not_ at attention.

Baekhyun is all smiles and jokes when Jongin emerges after him. Chatty and sunny, just as everyone expects of him. Had Jongin not just seen the gloomy look he had on his face before, he wouldn’t have been able to tell any difference. Baekhyun is apparently happy to see Jongdae, who waggles his eyebrows and makes a few jabs in Jongin’s direction. Everyone seems to have noticed their absence, wolf whistles and hollering and teasing abound. Someone points out Baekhyun’s new hickey with a lewd guffaw, flicking at his askew V-neck. Baekhyun blushes right down to his chest.

Jongin reaches for Baekhyun, meaning to wrap an arm around his waist but he slips out of his grasp, shimmying his way toward the newcomer. He tries not to feel hurt, resting the hand on his hip as he watches him carefully. Beside him, Sehun puts an arm over his shoulder, offering congratulations. Jongin smiles shyly.

Baekhyun continues his cheery charade, the perfect example of faking it until you make it. “What are you having?” he asks Jongdae, swiping his cocktail from him without waiting for an answer.

Taken aback, Jongdae doesn’t have time to warn Baekhyun until the drink has already been shotgunned back.

“Is this…” tries Baekhyun wetly, hand hovering over his mouth.

Jongdae winces. “Cucumber vodka.”

Baekhyun bolts.

“Dude’s gonna ralf,” comments Chanyeol, helpfully, a look on his face equal parts sympathy and schadenfreude. He looks to Jongin, who is now horrified and antsy and ready to follow. “Usually just the _smell_ of cucumber makes him gag.”

As resident (albeit reluctant) mother hen, Kyungsoo volunteers to follow him but Jongin protests, and maybe he got some kind of contact high because he says, “No, he’s mine.” He shakes himself, hearing the words out of his mouth too late. “I mean, no it’s okay, I’ll take care of him.”

Kyungsoo holds his gaze evenly, then steps back. 

Jongin runs after Baekhyun, remembering where the bathroom is from the tour. He enters quietly where Baekhyun is resting his cheek against the toilet seat. 

“Nooo,” he protests weakly when he sees Jongin open the door. Jongin smiles gently, grabs the hand towel hanging beside the sink. “Noo, noooo,” are Baekhyun’s final words before heaving over the edge of the toilet bowl for another wave of vomit.

Jongin wets the towel in the sink then crouches down to Baekhyun’s level, using it to dab at the corners of his mouth when he resurfaces. Baekhyun closes his eyes gratefully, the cool cloth heaven against his burning skin. Poor Baekhyun groans tiredly, but Jongin just scrunches his nose playfully. At this point, Baekhyun is sure he’s dying and if he’s not, he’s wishing for it. However, Jongin has a little niece and three dogs. He can handle a bit of gross.

“No,” tries Baekhyun again. “What if I”—he swallows—“what if I throw up on you?”

Jongin chuckles softly. “You said it yourself,” he begins, resting a hand on Baekhyun’s back, rubbing up and down. “I’m strong enough.”

✧

It’s been nearly a week and a half since the Party From Hell (as Chanyeol has so helpfully dubbed it) and Baekhyun has been ducking around corners avoiding Jongin like he’s patient zero of a new bubonic plague. That’s five official dance classes Baekhyun hasn’t sat in on. 

Patiently, Jongin hasn’t pushed the issue, politely kept his distance. He knew Baekhyun was embarrassed, so he gave him a chance to lick his wounds. But this is just ridiculous.

At practice, Baekhyun’s absence is ten times more distracting than his presence ever was; Jongin now more unfocused than when his audience of one was quietly observing him. He misses his eyes on him, the gentleness of the air around him, the way his lips parted into a cute little triangle when he’d stare, caught by Jongin’s movements. He misses those lips. It was just a moment he tasted them, but it only strengthened his appetite.

“Really,” he mutters exasperatedly at his own hardening cock in the shower after practice. Rivulets dribble down the length of his body, the spray of the showerhead just good enough to tease. He was thinking about Baekhyun—frustrating, titillating thoughts. How can you miss someone you’ve only just met?

He turns the knob to point at the little _C_ , grimacing, but with his mind set on what to do. He needs to see Baekhyun.

Out of the shower, his shivering body now firmly wrapped in a towel and shaking his hair out like a dog, Jongin pads over to where he left his phone beside the sink. It slips in his wet fingers at first but once he gets a hold of it, he taps out a text to Chanyeol, the only one he can contact in this situation.

_Hey im coming over to see baekhyun can you like not be there_ , he sends.

The reply is quick: _ARE U TWO GONNA BANG_

Jongin groans, replying, _Can you also like not be yourself_ , before getting dressed. His phone buzzes as he does so but he doesn’t read it until he’s already grabbed his keys and he’s about to leave the house:

_lol ur totally gonna bang!!!!!!_

He shakes his head in affectionate annoyance as he shoves his phone in his back pocket, then pushes his lips out in a pout. _Wet hair again_ , he thinks, going cross-eyed as he fiddles with a dripping lock in the middle of his forehead. 

✧

Standing on the stoop of Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s duplex apartment, Jongin nervously cards a hand through his slowly drying hair, trying to get the jitters out before the door finally opens to reveal…

“What the hell, Chanyeol?” demands Jongin, staring up at the lanky stoner holding a microwave bowl of Kraft mac and cheese, in his PJ’s on a weekday afternoon.

“Oh!” he exclaims. “Oh you mean _now_. Right. Okay.” He hands the little plastic bowl to Jongin in a frantic but slow attempt at retrieving a jacket and his keys. Grabbing the bowl back, he rummages in his pocket and procures a condom.

Jongin is scandalized. “You just _had_ this in—”

Chanyeol interrupts, yelling over his shoulder, “BAEKHYUN, DOOR’S FOR YOU, BYE!” He salutes the aghast Jongin with his spoon as he slips past him toward his car in the driveway.

It’s then that Baekhyun pokes his head out from around the corner, brows quirked quizzically before he focuses on the man in the doorway. Jongin almost squawks as he shoves the condom in his pocket and out of sight, but Baekhyun makes a similar sound seemingly in his place at the sight of him.

“Jongin,” he says in greeting, but it comes out more like a whine: an unsaid question of what the hell he’s doing there. He steps out and approaches him anyway. He’s dressed simply for the day’s previous slog of classes, shoulders surprisingly broad in a plain black tee, hips hugged by the waistband of his most comfortable ripped jeans.

“I had to see you,” admits Jongin hurriedly, too late to be embarrassed by how corny a romcom line that is. He shuts the door behind him as an afterthought, leaning back against it with his hand still on the doorknob, as if holding on for strength.

“Come on, you really wanna hang out with me after… that?” he asks, wincing, but still walking closer and closer. “The worst first date ever? If you can even call it that.”

An easy smile comes to Jongin’s lips then. “Maybe we’re remembering it differently. Because the highlights for me,” he starts, leaning over him so they’re nearly at eye level, “making out with a really cute guy who couldn’t stop staring at me for weeks on end, completely outweigh the lows.” Baekhyun shrinks but his eyes remain locked on his, lips turned in a reluctant grin. “Was it ideal? No, but I didn’t approach you at dance class because I was recruiting you. I was hoping you were interested in dance so I could get to know you, see you around more. Get up the courage to actually ask you out.”

Baekhyun bites his lip.

“One of us had to. And I would have anyway, eventually,” adds Jongin, “and, well, based on stories Yixing has told me I doubt that’s the last time I’m going to see you barf.”

Relaxing, Baekhyun laughs and shakes his head. “Damn him…”

“Look,” says Jongin, setting his hands on Baekhyun’s shoulders, “I really like you. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

Baekhyun sighs, like he’s defeated, but relief wells in him until he’s full with it. Again, it’s Baekhyun who steps up and kisses Jongin, the sides of his face gently cradled in the palms of his hands. Jongin doesn’t even have time to be surprised or to wrap his arms around Baekhyun’s waist like he wants to, because Baekhyun pulls back in an instant only to grab Jongin by the hand and drag him back to his bedroom.

“Those highlights you mentioned,” he says slyly after shutting the door and setting Jongin back in his seat from the night of the party, “they were going somewhere, weren’t they?”

Jongin laughs loudly, hands fisting the back of Baekhyun’s shirt as he pulls him closer, almost making him lose his balance. He looks up at Baekhyun with that same kind of reverence that made his head spin the first time. Jongin doesn’t kiss him right away, pressing his nose against Baekhyun’s abdomen through his shirt and breathing deeply. Baekhyun can feel his lips press against his belly button through the fabric. Baekhyun pushes him back again by the shoulders until he’s lying back on the bed, putting his knees on either side of his hips again. Jongin is happy to lie back and watch as Baekhyun pulls his shirt off in one swift movement. 

There’s a flush over Baekhyun’s chest and neck, dazzling in Jongin’s eyes. He splays his hand over the softness of Baekhyun’s belly, flat up against the length of his torso to thumb at his collar, where the fading hickey he left just barely remains. Baekhyun hums under his touch, head lolling back just to take it all in. He leans over languidly, deeply kissing Jongin who pushes up against him, licking into his mouth. Jongin holds him tightly, pressing fingerprints into his bare sides, curving out into his hips where he starts to edge the tips of his fingers past the waistband of his jeans and boxer briefs. 

Baekhyun kisses him without hurry, without urgency. He thinks he’d be happy to just make out for hours, but it’s Jongin who whines into his mouth, grinding up into him with desperation. When Baekhyun chuckles against his chin, Jongin whimpers all the more, embarrassed but not keeping his hands off Baekhyun’s ass.

Baekhyun props himself up on his elbows, chin cupped in his hands to look down at Jongin. He truly is beautiful like this, pink burning through his dark skin, lips shiny with spit. “Someone’s eager. You learn to ask for what you want in two weeks?”

Jongin huffs, pinching Baekhyun’s ass in retaliation (to which Baekhyun squeaks). “Last time, I thought you were only kissing me because you were drunk. But, I mean, I knew you liked me—”

“Do I?” he asks slyly, pursing lips as though pondering. 

“Oh my God, shut up, you’re so embarrassing.”

He continues against Jongin’s wishes: “I don’t know, did I ever say it? Are you sure?”

Jongin hides his face behind his hands; his speech is muffled but Baekhyun can just make out the word _embarassing_.

“Don’t you wanna know if I like you or not?” teases Baekhyun, lightly pinching a nipple through his shirt.

He squirms, mumbling, “You like me.”

Baekhyun pries Jongin’s hands away from his face so he can look at him properly. “Yeah,” he says, beaming. “I do.”

Jongin gives him a disgusted look, lips curled and dead eyes, but Baekhyun can’t stop grinning down at him. Without changing expressions, Jongin slowly turns his head to look away from him. 

“Hey!” he protests, blowing a raspberry on the cheek Jongin turned to him.

Unable to maintain the stoic reaction, Jongin decries at the attack, laughing fully, but adding a, “You are _gross_ ,” for good measure.

Baekhyun nods in agreement, dopey grin still lighting up his face. “So how do you wanna do this?” he asks, not missing a beat. He sits up, rutting softly against the strain of Jongin’s jeans, bringing a soft sound out of the other. “I don’t really have a preference.” He’s content to just get each other off, but he’d like to hear what Jongin wants.

Jongin puts a hand in his hair, sliding it down to hide his face again, but even as he avoids Baekhyun’s gaze he answers with confidence, “I’ve wanted your fingers inside me since I shook your hand.”

Baekhyun positively preens. “Well, that answers that question.”

But something’s wrong with this picture: they aren’t kissing. Jongin remedies that quickly, pulling Baekhyun back down to him. He lies bodily atop him, trying to push up at his shirt, fingers brushing against sensitive nipples. But Jongin isn’t cooperating, holding fast to Baekhyun and keeping his lips on his.

“Come on, help me out here,” he mutters, bottom lip dragging through Jongin’s teeth. “Let’s get you naked.”

Almost reluctantly, Jongin complies by sitting up and holding arms above his head so Baekhyun can pull his shirt up and away. Underneath is revealed to be an expanse of smooth skin, a toned sleekness to his body with a cute, albeit mostly flat, tummy. Baekhyun likes it. It makes the flawless adonis before him seem more human, and all the more perfect because of it. 

He walks backward on his knees, off of Jongin onto the floor. Jongin makes short work of his pants while Baekhyun watches, helping him out of them when he tries to shimmy them down the length of his legs. His thighs are thick and muscular.

“Wait!” cries Jongin suddenly, before Baekhyun can set the pants aside. For a brief moment of panic, Baekhyun thinks he’s having second thoughts. “Wait, um, there’s, uh, there’s a condom in the pocket.”

“Oh?” voices Baekhyun, pulling it from its confines. He raises his eyebrows at Jongin, as if to ask, _A little presumptuous, are we?_

“No!” Jongin almost shouts. “I didn’t—Chanyeol gave it to me!”

“‘No, officer, it’s not mine I was holding it for a friend?’” counters Baekhyun in a mock innocent voice, holding up the incriminating evidence.

That bark of laughter comes out of Jongin again, incredulous at the current situation as he sits up, fully naked and exposed with a hard-on and a blush you could fry an egg on. He shakes his head, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Chanyeol really wants us to bang,” he admits.

Still holding the condom aloft, Baekhyun puts his knees back on the bed and edges towards him. “Well, we better not disappoint him,” he jokes, but he says it in almost a whisper, a little sultry. He kisses Jongin, open-mouthed and deep, their bare chests flush against one another. Jongin’s hands flutter over the hem of his pants, blindly groping for the button to unzip the fly. 

Suddenly, he freezes, breaking the kiss. “We’re not telling him we used his condom, right?”

“Definitely not,” agrees Baekhyun with a laugh, leaning back in.

Baekhyun only pulls back again once Jongin’s successfully pushed his pants and underwear down, and he has to step out of them. “You want me to fuck you?” he asks. It doesn’t come out dirty, but rather nonchalantly like how someone would ask, _You want some lemonade?_ The mere fact that it came out of _Baekhyun’s_ mouth, is what undoes Jongin.

He nods, adding a _mhm_ that sounds more like a desperate moan that a confident confirmation. 

Baekhyun doesn’t waste time. Condom still in hand, he walks around to the bedside table, opening the drawer to take out a little bottle of lube and makes his way back before Jongin even has a chance to miss his warmth. Back on the bed, he leans over to smooch Jongin’s hip bone, dangerously close to his flushed dark cock. He bucks a little beneath him, impatient, but Baekhyun doesn’t half-ass anything. 

He takes the ankle on his left side in his hand, swinging it over so both his legs are to his right, curling around Baekhyun’s knees where he’s kneeling in above him. “God, you got a nice ass,” he comments, more for his own benefit than Jongin’s, who covers his face again in embarrassment. After dribbling lube over his fingers, he caps the bottle and puts it to the side, using his right hand to smooth over Jongin’s hip and thigh soothingly.

The angle and position is relaxing, Baekhyun’s forefinger sliding in with surprising ease. Jongin breathes through it, pressing his cheek into the bedsheet with restrained moans too quiet for Baekhyun to hear escaping past his lips.

“That good?” asks Baekhyun, breath nearly ragged at the mere sight of Jongin taking his fingers.

The leaking of Jongin’s neglected cock answers for him, but he answers in that same _mhm_ , weaker and higher in pitch this time. 

“You’re doing so well,” he whispers, leaning over to kiss the peak of his cheek. His lips find Jongin’s ear, pressing against a mole there before telling him, “You can touch yourself, you know. I wanna watch you.”

Jongin turns, soundly kissing Baekhyun’s lips, blindly mouthing and too gone from sensation for anything more than breathy and sloppy attempts as he wraps his hand around his own cock. He curses under his breath, jerking as Baekhyun presses another finger into his ass. Baekhyun sits back, slowly stretching Jongin out, getting an eyeful of him getting off. 

Another finger. Jongin tries desperately not to quicken his hand, but he keeps bucking into his fist at every push of Baekhyun’s fingers. He wants this to last. He wants to come with Baekhyun inside him. 

“Baekhyun,” he pleads.

“Yeah? You ready?” he asks, pulling out and reaching for the condom where he left it beside them.

“Yes,” breathes Jongin. He winces at the absence of Baekhyun’s fingers, clenching around nothing. Yes, please, he mouths.

Baekhyun’s hands are shaking when he rips open the condom, but they steady when he rolls it on and lines himself up to Jongin’s entrance. He leans over him, hands flanking Jongin where they rest on the mattress. With just the tip pushed in, Jongin gasps, chest heaving as he grabs at Baekhyun’s forearm. His nails dig into Baekhyun’s skin, but he’s begging under his breath, “ _Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop_ ,” his other hand squeezing the base of his dick to keep from coming already.

Swallowing thickly, Baekhyun tries to even his breathing, pausing once he’s fully seated. The tight heat is almost unbearable. Impatient, Jongin wiggles his ass, heels digging into the back of Baekhyun’s thigh. Baekhyun grins down at him, exasperated and fond, before pressing a smooch to his ribs, where they strain against skin with his heaving breaths. Hands holding Jongin’s hips up off the mattress, Baekhyun sits back on his heels, only to sit up and sink back into Jongin’s heat.

"Fuck, you fit so nice around my cock," Baekhyun mutters when he pulls back, lips slick and eyes closed.

Jongin groans under his breath, tilting his head back. Baekhyun's voice seems to be an ever-growing weakness of his, but he somehow never imagined _dirty talk_. He didn’t even known that was a _thing_ for him. He almost begs for him to say more, but Baekhyun obliges without needing to be asked.

"You're so perfect like this," he says, eyes soft while leaning back to roll his hips into Jongin. “So beautiful.” With one hand holding onto Jongin’s thigh, the other caresses the contours of Jongin’s glistening, sweaty face. He looks blissed out, eyelids heavy and mouth open and panting. The tips of Baekhyun’s long fingers graze over Jongin’s plush lips. Dazedly, Jongin opens for them, tongue licking against the grooves of the pads. Cocking an eyebrow, Baekhyun means to silently ask permission, but Jongin already begins sucking on his forefingers, teeth grazing knuckles. He was originally trying to stay quiet, but he can’t help but moan around Baekhyun’s fingers with every thrust against his prostate.

Baekhyun keeps going, talking in a hushed tone about how pretty Jongin’s mouth looks around his fingers, how he gets to watch him like this, all to himself. How all those people who had seen him dance on stage, didn’t get to see what he’s seeing right now. The possessive rush fills him again when he says that one out loud, pausing long enough to realize what he’s said. Embarrassed, Baekhyun recoils, still inside him but pulling his fingers from Jongin’s mouth, dragging them down over his chin. A wet thread of spittle connects his lip with Baekhyun’s fingers. “Shit, sorry, I know, I talk too much,” he apologizes, tracing designs into Jongin’s chest.

"No," says Jongin, barely above a whisper. He takes a hold of his wrist, kisses the tips of his fingers, still wet with his spit. "It's okay. It's good." When he meets Baekhyun’s eyes again, Jongin’s own are clouded with arousal, heavily lidded but far too bright in the dim light. They look like they’re sparkling. "It's… it's really good. I like your voice. I… I like it when you watch me," he admits.

Baekhyun licks his lips. “Maybe next time I’ll watch you do this yourself.”

Jongin’s dick jumps and he groans throatily at the thought, closing his eyes. Baekhyun begins to roll his hips into him again, a rhythm forming between them; as he does, he continues to speak.

Baekhyun has always excelled at sweet nothings, gushing forth a never-ending fountain of gentle murmurs of encouragement and sultry, saucy whispers. But as he continues, rocking shallow, teasing thrusts into Jongin, the sweet nothings grow. They expand, extend—sprout: into _somethings_ , until his voice cracks and his tongue trips and all his mouth has to offer is kisses. Leaning down, he cascades over Jongin's body, lips pressing to the hill of his shoulder, the paths of each arm, the peak of a nipple, the plateau of clavicle. As he traverses over, he finds himself mapping out Jongin's body with his tongue and lips, the tip of his nose trailing along the moles and scars. He finds himself wanting to make note of every single one, mark them. Claim them. Absurdly, he even imagines scribbling a warning on Jongin's tummy reading, _This land claimed in the name of Baekhyun. None shall enter here._ He settles on a smattering cluster of hickeys instead.

But he becomes so enraptured in this fantasy, so absorbed in his exploration—no, _adoration_ —of Jongin's body that he is no longer aware that he has started speaking again.

"…I don't want anyone else to touch you…” he whispers, gasping between rolling his hips. “…have you… I want you to be mine.” His tongue swipes at a hyphen-shaped scar. "Mine"—he thumbs twin moles two kisses apart—"mine”—he teeths at the pert peak of a nipple—“mine." Then he freezes, finally hearing himself, knowing that he’s saying all this _aloud_.

He pulls back, all too aware of how gross he's probably being and he thinks he's finally blown it. The final nail in the coffin. He’s lost him. He always does this, comes on too strong, freaks the other out—

But then, Jongin looks up at him with heavily lidded eyes, hair sticky with sweat against his brow and his chest rising laboriously. His lips push out, pouty and perfect, as he tries to blink out the haze. He looks right into Baekhyun's eyes, at once fiery and soft, and answers in a hoarse, husky whisper: " _Yours_."

✧

It’s after, when they’re both sated with Jongin’s cum drying on his tummy, that they count the battle scars. Jongin is covered in hickeys from his neck down to even his hip. Looking down at the new landmarks mapped out over his body, Jongin comments, "You really, uh, marked your territory, huh?"

Baekhyun rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, tries to change the subject as he slips off the bed and into some pants: “I’ll go get you a towel.” Jongin gives him one last teasing smile before lying back as Baekhyun ducks out of the room.

In the bathroom, when Baekhyun looks in the mirror he sees a sloppy heart-shaped hickey in the hollow below his shoulder over where the old one was originally displayed. He smiles. He’s Jongin’s too.


End file.
